Sonnet on Giorgione’s ‘Tempest’ by Bruce Dale Wise

Near a brief flash of lightning sits a bird,
a white one on a gray and sloping roof,
and rests against big blue clouds, like a surd,
almost absurd, incapable of proof;
and down below some city buildings gleam;
green trees and shrubs stand in between; a lone
bridge crosses over a slow-moving stream.
All that is enigmatic and unknown.
A lone pole leans against the man at left.
At right a nearly naked woman gives
a baby suck. By space the two are cleft.
There is a haunting quality that lives.
If ever on this painting your eyes rest,
you will not soon forget Giorgione’s Tempest.